


In This Together

by amorluzymelodia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Hospitals, PTSD, Physical Abuse, Protective Dean, Protective Sam, Sexual Abuse, Werewolves, abusive husband, cabin in the woods, cursing, less creepy than it sounds I promise, physical injuries, running away from an ex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorluzymelodia/pseuds/amorluzymelodia
Summary: While reader is running from something in her past, she finds Dean injured in the woods. They begin a hesitant friendship and soon find out they can help eachother more than they think.





	1. Chapter 1

Honestly, you never thought you’d be here. Never though you’d be on the run like this, but life has a really fucked up way of throwing curve balls at the most inopportune times. So here you were, driving up a sketchy back road in the middle of nowhere on some no name mountain. Even though you hadn’t been up here in years you were sure you could still find the cabin fairly easily. Oh how wrong you were. It took nearly two hours longer to get there, seeing as how you’d had to turn around a few times and had almost hit a deer once. It was dark by the time you pulled up to the cabin and you were exhausted.

Since you hadn’t had time to grab much you just had one duffle and a backpack with you, plus a small bag of groceries you’d grabbed from the convenience store in town. Luckily, you still had your key and the door opened on the first try. However, you were showered with dust and probably a few spiders as you opened the door and the cabin would definitely need to be cleaned up. There were old beer cans, fast food wrappers, and what you assumed were some kind of animal droppings on the floor. Still it was dry and warm and, most importantly, in the middle of fucking nowhere. You were pleased to find that every light worked, the stove—though outdated—turned on, and the fridge would at least keep things cold. An inspection of the bathroom made you glad that you’d thought to bring flip flops, since there was no way you were setting foot in that shower without them. But the water worked and was warm, so you couldn’t really complain. As you made to turn off the light you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and frowned, seeing your split lip and black eye. You groaned and shut off the light quickly.

Even if there was no television and no phone you were content to be here, to be safe and away from…well from everything. Running had never been your style but at some point it became the only option, so here you were. After you’d put away the groceries you collapsed on the couch before a clap of thunder reminded you that you needed to bring some firewood inside if you wanted to use it before it was soaking wet from the rain.

You made your way out of the cabin and down the hill to where the shed was that held firewood, tools and extra generators in case of a power outage, which was very likely out here. Unfortunately, it was quite far from the cabin and since it was so dark it took you longer to get there since you had to step carefully.

“Ow, shit!” you toppled over something large in the middle of the path and just narrowly caught yourself before your nose could hit the ground. However, catching yourself meant that your left wrist took the brunt of your weight and you were sure it was sprained, if not broken. There was also a nasty gash in your knee from where you’d landed on a rock, not to mention the various other scrapes from landing in the dirt. As you righted yourself you turned towards the culprit of your fall expecting to see a stray log or rock and fully not prepared to see what appeared to be a large human man, laying unconscious. Warily, you got up and knelt over him. You were all too aware of the dangers strange men presented, and were ready to defend yourself in case this was some kind of trick or trap. However, when you cautiously pressed your fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, he didn’t move, though you were grateful to find that his pulse was strong.

“Hey,” you called, shaking his shoulders slightly. “Are you okay?”

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer. It was then that you noticed that there was a nasty cut on his forehead, and though it wasn’t bleeding anymore, it looked bad and clearly needed to be cleaned. There was also a cut on his shoulder and his arm was bent at an odd angle. Knowing that you were at least half a mile from your cabin, and that you just happened to be in a dead zone for cell phone service you had no other choice than to either run back and get help, or take him back yourself. You were leaning towards the first option, just as the sound of thunder cracked overhead.

“Well, that settles that.” You said to yourself and hoisted him into a sitting position before slinging his uninjured arm around your shoulders and pulling him up. “Jesus!” you cried, almost buckling underneath his weight. It was clear that you were not going to get him back on your own, especially without injuring him or yourself further. So you make a split second decision and lowered him back to the ground gently.

“Dude, you gotta wake up!” you cried. “Seriously WAKE UP!” you shouted, shaking his shoulders again and luckily he groaned and opened his eyes, blinking a few times blurrily, finally focusing on you.

“S’mmy…” he grumbled and you let out a long breath.

“Hey, man you gotta get up.” You told him desperately, as rain was starting to fall. “We gotta get you inside.”

“W-where ‘m I?” he was starting to come to more. “Who’re you?”

“My name is Y/N.” you said as rain started to fall. “I can’t carry you inside by myself, you’ve gotta help me out here.”

With some frustrated grumbling and some painful lifting you managed to get his arm slung over your shoulders, with yours wrapped around his waist. Together, the two of you managed to half-walk half-stumble back to your cabin, and by the time you made it through the door both of you were soaking wet and shivering. Once you’d gotten inside you placed him on the couch—where he passed out instantly—and set to work making a fire in the fireplace—luckily there was some wood left next to the fireplace, since you were clearly not going out to get any more tonight. Next, you got his wet shoes and socks off of him and somehow you managed to get his jacket and sopping flannel off him. However, you left his tee shirt and jeans on, not wanting to cross a line. You did get a towel and attempt to dry his hair, before wrapping a large blanket around him to keep him warm.

Positive that he’d be okay for a few minutes you hurried to the back bedroom where you’d stashed your stuff and quickly changed into a dry pair of sweats and a heavy flannel, with some thick socks. Once you’d rung your hair out you headed back to the living room, not surprised to see him still passed out on the couch. You grabbed the first-aid kit out of the kitchen and set it on the coffee table. After checking his pulse again—it was still strong and steady—you decided you’d better find out who this guy was. Careful not to wake him, you dug in the pockets of his jacket, finding a wallet with various credit cards that you assumed were stolen or forged because they all had different names, a driver’s license with the name Dean Hasselhoff on it—that was probably fake too—and an old photo of a woman and a young boy, that had clearly been folded and unfolded many times over the years. After safely putting those back you checked the phone. Of course, the battery was dead. Luckily it was the same type of phone you had so you hurried to plug it into your charger. He groaned from the couch and you hurried back over to him, making sure that the cut on his forehead wasn’t bleeding again. However, when you reached out to touch his forehead his hand shot out and caught your wrist. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt you but you could feel strength behind his grip, and you were sure that if he wasn’t injured he could take you down without breaking a sweat.

“It’s okay!” you said hurriedly. “You’re hurt. I’m just trying to help.”

"Where am I?" he demanded, his voice scratchy, like he hadn't had water in a while. 

“Hotchkiss, Colorado!” You told him and he nodded like he recognized the name but his grip on your wrist didn’t loosen.

“What’s your name?” his voice was still scratchy but it didn’t lack strength.

“Y/N.” you told him, purposefully leaving your last name off. He was still a stranger and with what you were running from it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

He raised his eyebrows. “You gonna give me a last name?”

“Are you?” you shot back.

Surprisingly his only answer was to grin slightly and let go of your wrist and collapse back against the couch, although you could tell by his body language that he was ready to pounce at any moment. Clearly he was well trained and on alert. Combine that with his injuries and obvious strength and you were getting more nervous by the second. Although, something in your gut told you that he was trustworthy, so you merely got up and got him a glass of water and a bottle of pain killers that you kept in your bag. When you handed them to him he thanked you but waved them off, and you realized you weren’t the only one who was wary. Although you wondered why he was wary of a person half his size, when he was injured and you’d helped him.

“So, Y/N…” he said casually. “You make a habit of rescuing random dudes in the middle of the forest?”

“Do you make a habit of getting beat up and lost in the woods?” you shot back and he laughed.

“Touche,” he said, smiling. "I'm Dean by the way." 

“Ow shit!” you hissed as you put too much pressure on your injured ankle and collapsed next to him on the couch. He moved to make room for you but also sat up quickly, leaning forward as if to catch you.

“What happened?” he asked and you just waved your hand, the other cradling your ankle.

“I tripped over you in the woods is what happened.” you said, wincing as you tenderly prodded the bones in your ankle. “It’s not broken, just sprained.”

You leaned forward and grabbed an ace bandage out of the first-aid kit, wrapping your ankle expertly while he watched and you were suddenly reminded that he had a few injuries you needed to tend to as well. After you finished wrapping your ankle you pulled the first-aid kit onto your lap and turned towards him.

“You’ve got a few nasty cuts and your arm is probably broken,” you told him seriously. “Promise you won’t kill me once I fix you up?”

Dean grinned and held up his right hand. “Promise you won’t poison me in my sleep?”

You rolled your eyes just held up your right hand as well and nodded. Dean sat quietly while you inspected the cut on his forehead, which luckily wouldn’t need stitches, just a few butterfly bandages and some disinfectant. The gash on his shoulder wasn’t deep either, but you cleaned it and wrapped it in gauze to be safe. Unfortunately, his arm wasn’t in great shape, it was clearly broken.

“How’s it lookin’ doc?” he said teasingly but you heard his labored breathing as you inspected his forearm, where there was a large bruise forming and it was still bent awkwardly.

“It’s broken,” you told him, but he didn’t seem surprised. “I don’t know how to set bones. We’re going to have to get you to a hospital.”

Surprisingly, Dean waved that offer off and shook his head. “No hospitals.” He said sternly and you froze—that didn’t sound sketchy at all. “I can reset it just…you got any whiskey?”

You nodded but as you retrieved it from the cabinet you called back to him.

“You wanna tell me why you know how to reset broken bones?” you asked as you brought back the whiskey and handed it to him.

“You wanna tell me how you got that bruise?” he asked, pointing to your eye and you froze.

“Probably when I fell tripping over your busted up ass.” You spat and he nodded knowingly, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

He talked you through resetting his arm and making a splint, though he’d downed nearly half the bottle of whiskey by the time you were done. It wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, though you weren’t exactly inexperienced when it came to injuries. By the time you were finished he had passed out again and you were nearing that point yourself. You limped your way over to the kitchen and downed two glasses of water. Just as you were about to head off to bed your heard a ding and quickly remembered that you’d plugged in Dean’s phone to charge. You hurried over where you’d left it and saw that he had a slew of text messages and missed calls from someone named Sam. Even though you were incredibly curious, you knew you had no right to go through his messages and you were honestly about to leave it alone when the phone started ringing. It was Sam again. After a momentary pause you clicked answer and held the phone up to your ear, saying nothing.

“Dean?” a deep voice asked on the other end. “Dean where the hell are you? I’m at the campsite where the first two victims were found, and there’s a dead werewolf and no you! Where the hell are you, man?” when you didn’t answer he paused. “Dean?” he asked hurriedly, his voice getting more panicked. “De—“ you hung up the phone quickly and turned it off, just in case. You didn’t know what was happening here but you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. 

Dean groaned in his sleep and rolled over and you heard something heavy clatter to the ground. When you walked over to see what it was, you were shocked to see a gun on the floor, having clearly just fallen from where it must’ve been tucked in the back of his jeans.

Who the hell was this guy?


	2. Chapter 2

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, just staring between Dean and the gun on the floor, not sure what to do. Should you call the police? No…that wasn’t an option. It suddenly made sense why Dean didn’t want you to take him to a hospital. If you were carrying a weapon you wouldn’t want that either. This guy somehow ended up beat up in the middle of nowhere, knew how to reset bones, had a gun on him and had missed calls from someone who was talking about _werewolves_. None of this made any sense.

But for some reason…you felt that you could trust this man. You had no idea why, nor any good reason for why you did, but still, there was a feeling in your gut that he was good. Still, you couldn’t ignore the gun lying on the floor so you wrapped the sleeve of your shirt around your hand and picked up the gun carefully, not wanting to get your fingerprints on it. You placed it in the safe in your bedroom, along with his phone, locking it, just in case. Suddenly all the times you’d laughed at your father for putting a safe in the cabin didn’t seem so funny, and you sent up a small thank you to him. Any thoughts of sleep were thrown out the window and you started making some coffee to keep yourself awake while you set up your laptop in the chair across from the couch where Dean was still fast asleep. After a few minutes of putzing around on your laptop you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and you sighed. It was alerting you to the unread messages and missed calls that were filling up your inbox. As much as you wanted to delete them you had the feeling that you may need them later, and deleting them would require opening them. You knew if you read them or listened to the messages then you would be dragged back right where you were. It was easier to ignore them and act like nothing was wrong. Besides, you had a very real problem sitting right in front of you, snoring into the pillows.

Out of all the red flags that had gone up since you’d met this man, the one that worried you the most was the gun and the mention of werewolves. Maybe he was a LARPer or something along those lines? You were sure there was a valid explanation for it and that your brain was just running off on it’s own. Still, you couldn’t be sure until Dean—if that even was his real name—woke up. So you made sure the fire was stoked and curled up in the chair with a movie that you weren’t really watching.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, because you sure as hell hadn’t meant to. But you woke up to a loud clap of thunder and jolted awake, your laptop clattering to the ground. For a moment you forgot where you were and almost cried out, until you saw the dying embers of the fire and could smell the coffee that you’d made in a futile attempt to stay awake. As you calmed down a bit your eyes found Dean, sitting up awake on the couch, staring at you with what you could’ve sworn was concern.

“You okay?” he asked and you nodded shakily, picking up your laptop and placing it on the table next to you. “Storm’s gotten worse.” He noted and you nodded, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself. “How’s your ankle?” he asked.

“Fine. How’s your arm?” you asked and he shrugged.

“I’ve had worse,” he said casually and you frowned. This guy wasn’t getting any less suspicious. You stood up to put your empty coffee mug in the sink and brought him a glass of water, which he accepted with thanks. You made to relight the fire, wanting the warmth and light back.

“So where is it?” he asked sternly and you froze.

“Where is what?” you decided to play dumb, at least for now.

“You know what, Y/N.” he said and your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it. “You found my gun didn’t you?”

You turned around and looked him in the eye but didn’t answer one way or another. He met your gaze evenly for a bit before sighing.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” he said and you refrained from scoffing.

“I don’t know that.” You tried to keep the fear out of your voice but you were sure he heard it.

“Well we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in a pretty bad storm, so we’re going to have to trust each other a little aren’t we?” he said and you sighed, knowing he was right. “We’re in this together so we might as well get comfortable.”

Although you knew you shouldn’t trust him, should toss his ass out in the woods and let him fend for himself, because he was clearly dangerous and sketchy, you couldn’t find it in yourself to do that, so you nodded, deciding to trust him for the time being. At least with the gun locked up and his arm putting him somewhat out of commission for a bit, you felt somewhat better.

“Okay,” you said, finishing lighting the fire and sitting back in your armchair.

Dean grinned at you and held up the water, as if to toast you before he took a long drink.

“So,” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice. “Twenty questions?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously? Are we twelve?”

Dean just shrugged and gestured to the window. “What else are we going to do?” he said and you sighed, getting comfortable and conceding.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s start with why you were in the middle of the woods with a gun tucked in the back of your jeans?”

Dean seemed completely undisturbed by the question and just shrugged. “Hunting,” he said simply and you frowned.

“Hunting?” that seemed too simply an answer, and the gun he’d had wasn’t exactly suited for hunting anything you’d seen around the cabin, not that you had a lot of experience with hunting anything. “Hunting what?” you asked cautiously, remembering the mystery call from Sam—whoever he was—and the mention of werewolves. But…he couldn’t seriously be hunting _werewolves_ could he? They didn’t exist…as far as you knew anyway.

“Nuh uh,” he said. “My turn sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname but motioned for him to continue. “What are you runnin’ from?”

"Who says I’m running from anything?” you were immediately put on edge. He was clearly more insightful than you gave him credit for.

“This isn’t exactly a place someone would come for a vacation,” he said knowingly. “You have one bag of groceries, that looks mostly like stuff you bought in a hurry. Not to mention you’ve been super jumpy this whole time.”

“That could be because of the strange man sitting on the couch across from me,” you countered but he didn’t look convinced.

“Hey, you brought me here, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Can it with the nicknames, got it?” he smiled and nodded, holding up his hands apologetically. “My turn. What were you hunting?”

“Something that needed to be put down,” he said simply and you refrained from rolling your eyes. If you wanted to get the truth out of him you would have to be sneakier about it it seemed. “Where’d you get the bruise?”

“Falling over you in the woods,” It appeared he was trying to get the truth out of you as well but you were aware of it too and weren’t going to give it up so easily. “Why do you know how to reset broken bones?”

“Experience. This your cabin?”

Although that question seemed more innocent than the others, you were sure he was still trying to gather information about you and you answered carefully. “It’s my father’s. Did you kill whatever it was you were hunting?”

Dean nodded and smiled to himself. “Bastard put up one hell of a fight but I got ‘im in the end. Your dad mind that you’re using his cabin?”

“Probably not considering he’s been dead for four years.” You said simply and Dean’s face fell, his eyes grew warmer and he leaned forward a bit.  In all honesty you hadn’t meant to be so rude, and instantly felt guilty, it was just a tense situation and you didn’t like talking about your parents. You looked at Dean apologetically. “Car crash,” you weren’t sure why you told him that but it came out before you could stop it. “Mom too. They hit black ice and flipped their car. Died on impact.”

“I’m sorry,” you were surprised at the honesty in Dean’s voice, and wondered if he’d lost someone too.

You coughed and nodded shakily. It was still difficult to talk about. “Thank you.” After a long moment you shook your head and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Your turn,” Dean said quietly and you were thankful for the change in subject.

“Are you hungry?” you offered and Dean laughed quietly, patting his stomach with his good hand.

“Hell yeah.” He admitted.

You stood up and rummaged around in the fridge. “I have a frozen pizza, is that okay?”

“Perfect!” Dean said and you set the oven to 350 degrees and refilled his glass of water, getting one for yourself. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a shower in this place?” he asked and you nodded quickly, chastising yourself. Even though he was a stranger and this wasn’t exactly the most normal of situations he was still a person and you should’ve offered this long before now.

“Yeah, of course!” you said and hurried to your room, grateful you’d thought to bring a towel and that the cabin had a washer. You handed him the towel and pointed down the hall. “Bathroom is on the left, there should be soap and stuff under the sink. Pizza should be ready when you’re done.”

Dean nodded and stood up, wincing slightly when he moved his sore muscles. When he took a step forward he stumbled and bumped into you. “Sorry.” He laughed and righted himself. “I’m a clutz.” You just shrugged and he nodded his thanks before he headed to the bathroom and you heard the water running a few moments later.

While he showered you busied yourself with making up the guest room, since you were sure the couch wasn’t that comfortable, especially when he was hurt. When the timer went off you hurried back to the kitchen to find Dean pulling the pizza out of the oven. His hair was wet and he’d put his jeans back on, along with his flannel, but—you noticed with a jolt—he didn’t have a shirt on underneath.

“Pizza’s done,” he said, stating the obvious.

You pulled down two plates and the two of you cut yourself a few slices each and sat back near the fire.

“My turn to ask something?” Dean asked and you shrugged, not really sure who’s turn it was, but not having a question at this very moment, at least not one that you weren’t sure wouldn’t tip him off or anger him. “Where’s your husband?”

You nearly choked on your pizza. “W-what?” you coughed.

Dean nodded towards your left hand. “Your ring.” He said simply, but you were still on high alert. “You’re married, but you didn’t come up here with him. Why not?”

“He had to work.” You said tersely, focusing adamantly on your pizza.

“Mhmm,” Dean hummed. “That why you’re ignoring all his calls and texts?”

Your head popped up. “How—“

Dean held up your phone and you realized he must have snagged it from your pocket when he’d bumped into you earlier. You cursed yourself for being so stupid.

“You read my messages?” you demanded, snatching your phone back from him. He released it easily.

“And you took my gun,” he said around a mouthful of pizza, shrugging. “We’re even.”

“That’s not the same thing! I took your gun because I was scared! You read my messages because you—what? Wanted to spy on my life?”

“I wanted to see who I’m dealing with,” he said, sitting up and you couldn’t deny that you were slightly distracted by the way his muscles moved under his open flannel. “And for the record, I didn’t read them.”

“I helped you!” you were on your feet, yelling, though you didn’t mean to. “I could’ve let you freeze or bleed to death in those woods but I didn’t!”

“Oh I’m sorry, do you want an award for being a decent human being?” he shot back, standing up as well. “And I’m really feeling the love. You’re clearly not willing to trust me!”

“Well excuse me for being a bit freaked out by the random gun-toting so-called werewolf hunter stumbling onto my property!”

Dean suddenly fell silent, his face turning into a grimace, with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Who said anything about werewolves?” he asked carefully and you slapped a hand over your mouth, realizing what you’d just said.

_Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

“Y/N?” he said and there were a few tense moments while you stared at each other in shock, while you tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous or make him angry. You knew all too well what happened when men got angry.

“Y-you did.” You said, though with how high your voice had gotten, you didn’t sound very convincing. “When I brought you in from the woods, you were all delirious, talking nonsense, and you mentioned werewolves…”

“Nuh uh,” he said, taking a step forward and you mirrored him, stumbling into the chair, falling backwards onto the cushions. “I know for a fact I didn’t mention werewolves once. Why would you bring them up?”

“I—I don’t…” you were stuttering, realizing that even with him injured he was still far larger and clearly stronger than you were and there was no way you could take him down if it came to that. This was feeling far too reminiscent of what you’d just left behind and you were trying hard not to cower into the chair. “I’m sorry, please…please don’t hurt me…”

Something akin to concern, or guilt flashed over Dean’s face and he held up his hands, taking a few steps backwards.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised, though you still didn’t believe him. He sighed and sat down on the couch across from you, holding up his hands like a criminal showing he was unarmed. “Look, just…what do you know about werewolves?”

That confused you and you scoffed, raising your eyebrows. “What do you mean? Werewolves aren’t real!” you actually laughed but stopped when Dean’s face didn’t change. “Right?”

Dean sat there in silence for a moment, seeming to ponder what his next words should be and his eyes narrowed as he glanced around the room.

"Where is my phone, Y/N?” he asked lowly and you shook your head, too quickly to be convincing.

"You didn’t have one on you,” you lied. “It must’ve fallen out in the woods somewhere.”

"Stop lying.” He snapped, but kept his voice level. Though that did nothing to calm your nerves, in fact it made you more afraid. You knew too well that a calm exterior could be hiding a hurricane beneath. “Where is it?”

Suddenly, his anger didn’t frighten you as much and you realized how ridiculous this was. When you’d found him in the woods you’d taken him in, fixed him up, and now he was waltzing around like he owned the place. This wasn’t his house, it was yours, and you were sick of cowering while others walked all over you.

“I could call the police, you know.” You spat, wishing the venom in your voice was stronger. “Not only were you trespassing on private property, you’re carrying a gun that I’m willing to bet you aren’t licensed for. And I’m sure they won’t buy your ‘hunting’ excuse either.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Dean countered, immediately calling your bluff. “The evidence is stacked against me, so why not call the cops?”

“I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. But apparently I’m paying for my bad judgment.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t try and take the high road, sweetheart. Any normal person would have called the cops the minute they found my gun. But you didn’t. Why?”

When you didn’t answer Dean huffed and sat forward.

“Okay, maybe I need to start off the trusting huh?” he said and you frowned. “Monsters are real. Vampires, demons, and yes, _werewolves_ , are all real. There’s a lot of evil shit in this world that shouldn’t be here and there’s people like me who take care of it. Who hunt the monsters that hunt humans. There was a werewolf killing people not far from here, that’s why I ended up in the woods all busted up, and that’s why I had a gun on me. If you check the chamber you’ll find silver bullets. And if you check the woods near where you found me, you’ll find the body of a local bum named Scotty, with a bullet hole in his heart.”

"Jesus Christ,” you hissed, your heart racing and tears threatening to spill. “You’re insane.”

“Am I?” Dean countered. “Or is this the first thing I’ve said that you actually believe?”

How in the world did this man seem to call you on all your shit right away? How was he able to seemingly read your thoughts? It unnerved you to no end, but also…intrigued you as well. After taking a few deep breaths you still couldn’t come up with anything to say and there were a few tears streaming down your face. Dean sighed and looked at you sympathetically.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N.” he said quietly. “I was honest with you. Now can you be honest with me?”

"W-what do you want to know?” you sputtered.

"Why haven’t you called the cops?”

“What would I even tell them?” you said quietly, trying to deflect the conversation. “I brought you here myself, you haven’t hurt me, haven’t even threatened me. Hell they probably can’t even get you on trespassing because I let you stay here. It’s all he-said she-said at this point.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like you know exactly how that call would go.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’ve known a few cops in my life.”

Dean seemed to register what you were saying, and though he narrowed his eyes, he didn’t say anything more on the subject, for which you were thankful. Since the two of you were seemingly reaching a calm point in the conversation, you decided to ask a question that had bothered you for a while now.

“We’re being honest with each other now, yeah?” you asked and Dean shrugged and nodded. After a deep breath, you went out on a limb. “Who is Sam?” you asked quietly and you could practically feel Dean tense up from across the room. Shit. You’d hit a nerve. You hurried to cover your tracks. “You had a couple missed calls from him on your phone, and some messages. I didn’t read them I swear!” the way Dean was glaring at you made you nervous, but he looked at you for a long moment and seemed to relax a bit.

“Christo,” he said and you frowned but when you made no other reaction he sighed and seemed to relax a bit. “Can I have my phone?” he asked softly and you nodded, getting up and retrieving it from the safe in your room quickly.

“I shouldn’t have taken it,” You said quietly, handing it to him and he smiled at you gently.

“I don’t blame you,” he said, turning it on. “I would’ve done the same thing if the roles were switched. Shit,” he cursed lowly as the phone started up. He dialed a number quickly and held the phone up to his ear. “Sam!” he sounded relieved and you could tell that Sam was someone important to him. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. The wolf threw me for a loop but I managed to make friends with a local, she patched me up.” There was a pause while Sam spoke and you heard the tension in his voice. “Yes I’m sure! I know how to do my job, Sam!” another pause while Sam spoke and Dean’s voice mellowed a bit. “Naw, I’m good. You just clean up and make sure no one asks any questions okay? Take a few days, enjoy the magic fingers and pay-per-view porn.” You rolled your eyes and heard Sam scoff on the other end, before he spoke for a moment. “Yeah, okay. Bye.” He hung up and looked at you for a moment, seeing the confusion on your face. “My brother,” he explained and you nodded.

“So you two are…monster hunters?” you scarcely believed it but he was right; that was the first thing he’d said that you truly believed. “And you were here hunting a werewolf?” he nodded and you let out a long breath. “Shit.”

"I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me.” Dean said but you shook your head.

“It’s not that it’s just…a few years ago there were some weird deaths near me. People with their throats ripped out, blood drained…the police said it was gang activity but—“

“Vampires.” He finished the sentence for you and you cursed again. “Just the tip of the monster-iceberg.” Dean winched as he adjusted and sat up and hit his arm against a pillow.

“Here, let me see that.” You said and moved to sit next to him on the couch. You unwrapped the bandages and saw that his arm was still bruised but the swelling had gone down, which was good. Dean watched you carefully the whole time you examined his arm and when you wrapped it back up. You stood up to get him some ice and pain killers and he called after you.

“What’s your husbands name?” he asked conversationally but you tensed.

“Michael,” you called back, trying to remain nonchalant as you brought him his ice and handed him the pain killers, but the look in his eyes made you think he already knew what you weren’t saying.

“How long have you been married?” he asked, throwing back the pills and adjusting the ice on his arm.

“Two years. We’ve been together for four.” You kept your answers short and blunt, hoping he’d get the hint and back off, though you were sure that wouldn’t happen. 

Dean looked at you knowingly for a long moment and then sat up slowly, speaking carefully.

“Does he know about your little vacation?”

 There was a moment where you were actually frightened that Dean knew Michael. That he would tell him where you were, and you would be forced to go back with him. But you reminded yourself that Michael wouldn’t need to get someone else to find you, he could do it himself. Still, there was no doubt Dean knew what was going on, or at least he was piecing it together. When you didn’t answer, but just stared at him, lips sealed and eyes threatening to tear, he sighed and fixed you with a sympathetic look.

"You guys have a fight?” he asked, though you heard the undertone of suspicion.

You sat down on the couch next to him again and pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping our arms around them tightly.

“Something like that,” you said quietly and Dean leaned forward slightly.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked and you were sure the way your entire body tensed up and your head jerked up at the question was answer enough. Dean, however, didn’t seem shocked.

“Of course not.” You grumbled, your tone too defensive, your answer too quick.

Dean put a hand lightly on your knee and looked into your eyes, determined.

“That bruise is at least a few days old, Y/N. I know you didn’t get it tripping in the woods.” He said slowly but you just shook his hand off.

Just as you opened your mouth to tell him he had it wrong, that you were fine and Michael wouldn’t hurt you, the sharp trill of a phone ringing made you jump. It was your phone, which you picked up off the coffee table where Dean had put it earlier. When you saw the caller-id you froze and Dean peeked at it.

“Speak of the douche-bag.” He said humorlessly.

The two of you just stood there, listening to it ring for a few moments before it finally stopped and a few seconds later pinged with an alert for a new voicemail message. Without thinking you clicked “listen to message” and put the phone on speaker so Dean could hear too.

 _“Y/N, it’s me.”_ Michael’s voice rang out, and you could tell just from that one sentence that he was angry. _“I don’t know what shit you’re playing at but you need to call me. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”_

The message ended and you practically threw your phone across the room, into the chair cushions. Then you rested your elbows on your knees and dropped your head in your hands.

“I shouldn’t have left,” you whispered. “He’s going to be so angry…” you could feel yourself getting worked up, but you couldn’t control it. The thought of Michael’s rage was enough to send you into a full on panic attack. Dean saw what was happening and sat down next to you, taking your hands in his.

“Whoa, Y/N look at me, okay? Breathe. Breathe with me.” He started to breathe in and out deeply and you tried to match his pace. Finally, you calmed down enough that he got up and got you a glass of whiskey, from the cabinet above the stove. Although you knew drinking around a strange man probably wasn’t the best idea, you took the glass from him and downed the entire thing in one swallow. Dean looked at you with a look halfway between being impressed and concerned. He put the glass on the coffee table and turned back to you.

“You okay?” he asked and you just shook your head. “How long has he been hurting you?”

The look on his face told you not to bullshit him on this. And if you were being honest with yourself, the desire to _finally_ tell someone about what was going on, was too great to deny. So you took a deep breath and once you started talking it was like the floodgates were opened and you couldn’t close them again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of rape, assault and domestic abuse (emotional, physical and sexual). Please proceed with caution.

“Michael is a cop,” you said while Dean listened intently. “He was the first on the scene when my parents…when their car flipped.” Dean nodded in understanding, and you weren’t used to being listened to, and it made you nervous. “That’s how we met actually. He helped me through the whole case, putting me in contact with the best lawyers in town, helping me pack up all their stuff, putting the house on the market, even planning the funeral.”

“That’s above and beyond for a local cop,” Dean said, and you heard the undertone of suspicion in his voice.

You nodded and fiddled with the ring on your finger, feeling like it weighed one thousand pounds. “He was so kind and helpful through it all. And a few months after the funeral he asked me out officially. I had just lost my parents, a lot of my friends had moved or started families, and work was stressful. He was a breath of fresh air, stability and comfort and I kind of jumped in headfirst without thinking it through. I moved in after a few months and we were engaged not long after that.”

Dean hesitated, and you knew what his next question was going to be but it was clear he didn’t want to ask. “How long has he been hurting you?”

You shrugged, uncomfortable, but also feeling a bit relieved that you could finally talk about this. “I’m not sure. It was really sporadic at first. And it was nothing that left marks, y’know? But, he hit me once and I had a split lip…he was so apologetic and promised he’d never do it again. But after we got married, I don’t know really but something changed. He got super possessive. I though he was just being protective you know? But then the beatings got more regular. He was smart about it though, never hit me where the bruises would show. Michael started checking my phone messages, would never leave me alone with another man. Then he started telling me when I could have friends over, and who I could invite. After a while we only really saw his cop buddies and their wives.”

“Did you tell any of them what was happening?”

You shook your head. “No, I was too scared, and part of me thought that I was making it out to be more than it was y’know? Couples fight all the time.”

“Normal fights don’t involve hitting, Y/N.” he said and you just shrugged.

“One night I got home late from work and Michael was convinced I was cheating on him. That was one of the worst times. He just…wouldn’t stop. Broke my arm. I told my boss I fell on some ice, but I don’t think she believed me. When Michael’s sister had a baby, he said we should try for one too.”

“Shit,” Dean breathed and you just looked down at your hands, starting to numb out. If you didn’t go numb, all your feelings would rush to the surface and you would explode. This was how you would survive, by acting like it wasn’t happening, or wasn’t as bad as you thought.

"He started talking about it like it would fix all of our problems, that that was what was missing in our life. I told him I wanted to wait, that I liked my job and didn't want to quit, but if we had kids I wouldn't want to half-ass that either. He agreed at first, but after a few months he brought it up again. This time he wasn't so understanding. He said he'd always wanted a child and I was hurting him by depriving him of one. So, we started trying. I told him I wouldn't quit my job until a few months into the pregnancy though."

"How'd that pan out?" 

"Turns out I didn't need to quit, seeing as how I couldn't seem to get pregnant. He insisted it was me, that something was wrong with me. He even started checking my medications to make sure I wasn't still on birth control."

"That's psychotic!" 

"He stared insisting that we have sex once a day, said it would increase our chances of conceiving. One day I…I didn’t want to and he got angry.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he didn’t want to ask, but knew he should. “Did…did he force you?”

You shrugged and scratched absently at your arm. “He’s my husband, it’s not like it was rape.”

“Did you say no?” he demanded, but his anger wasn’t directed at you. When you nodded he shook his head, clearly upset. “Then it was rape, Y/N.”

“He’s my _husband_ ,” you repeated, tearing up.

“That doesn’t mean he gets to _rape_ and _beat_ you!” Dean argued, his voice rising, you were shaking and on the verge of a panic attack and he seemed to notice. Dean took a deep breath and fixed you with a soft look. “Have you told _anyone_?”

Shame washed over you and you couldn’t meet his eyes. “Who would I tell? He’s a cop, all his friends are the cops in our town. They wouldn’t believe me, and it would just make him angrier with me.”

“What about your friends?” Dean suggested.

You shook your head. “He made sure they didn’t stick around, and I’m an only child, so were my parents, so I don’t have any family to go to.”

“He completely isolated you.” Dean commented and though you’d never thought of it like that before, you were shocked at how accurate it was. After a moment, Dean spoke again. “So why did you finally leave? What was the final push?”

You didn’t say anything, just took a deep breath and looked down at your stomach. It didn’t take Dean more than a few seconds to piece it together.

“You’re pregnant.”

The tears were coming in full force now, and you couldn’t look at him. However, you did nod. “I found out a few days ago. Took three pregnancy tests to be sure.” Your hands rubbed over your stomach almost like it was second nature.

Dean scratched his arm awkwardly and spoke carefully. “Have you considered…other options?”

Shame filled you but you nodded. “I thought about it but I decided against it in the end. It isn’t this child’s fault, y’know? Plus I’ve always wanted children just…not like this. So when Michael went out for drinks with his friends I just packed a bag and…I ran.” Your head dropped into your hands. “Michael is going to be furious.”

A soft hand touched your shoulder and you almost flinched, but reminded yourself that Michael wasn’t here, and you were fairly sure Dean wouldn’t hurt you. He spoke softly.

“I promise you, Y/N that I will not let him hurt you. Either of you.”

Though you wanted to believe him, wanted more than anything to trust that this stranger could take care of you, protect you and your unborn child…your brain was telling you that it wasn’t possible. You needed a job, needed a steady income, a real home, and you had little to no experience raising children. There was no way you could do it on your own, and there was a part of you screaming that the only way to do it was to go back to Michael, no matter how angry he was. But if he felt comfortable beating, and raping you…what did that mean for your child? Could you raise a child in a violent home? How could you protect them if you couldn’t even protect yourself?

Dean’s voice dragged you out of your inner turmoil. “Does Michael know about this cabin?” he asked.

You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest. “It was in my father’s name, but he left it to me when he died. I didn’t tell Michael about it, and we never came up here. Michael only wanted to take lavish vacations, he would never have slummed it in a dump like this.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, that’s good. Can I see your phone?”

You hesitated. “Why?”

Dean didn’t get angry, like Michael would have, when you question him, he just answered you calmly. “He’s a cop, which means he has easy access to tracking equipment. If we turn your phone off he can’t track it.”

That made sense. You handed it to him and he powered it off before setting it back on the table and pulling out his own phone.

“Who are you calling?” you asked quietly.

“My brother. There might be a chance Michael has already tracked your phone from the last call, so we should get the hell out of dodge.”

That caught your attention. “We?”

Dean nodded, and it was odd to see such a soft look on such an intimidating man. “Yeah, sweetheart. We aren’t going to let him hurt you again. We’ll keep you safe until you can figure something out.”

That was odd, someone offering to help you like that. It had been a very long time before anyone had offered you any kind of help, and here was an almost complete stranger offering to protect you from your abusive husband, and looking for nothing in return. Dean held up the phone to his ear, but frowned after a moment and pulled it down.

“Dammit,” He said, frustrated. “Service is spotty.”

“Yeah that happens up here, all the trees and wind make it sketchy.” You said and gestured out the windows, where rain was still pelting the glass. “Plus the storm doesn’t help.”

Dean just rolled his eyes and locked his phone after trying to call Sam again. “Aw well, I’ll try again in a bit.” He looked back to you and you still had fresh tears on your eyelashes and were still huddled in on yourself and his gaze was empathetic. “No offense Y/N but you look like Hell.”

You laughed slightly. “None taken, I feel like Hell.”

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, okay?” he suggested. “I’ll make sure no one gets in here, and we’ll regroup tomorrow.”

After a moment of deliberation, you nodded, your body and mind completely exhausted and worn down, which couldn’t be good for the child inside you. Dean took the blanket of the couch and draped it over your shoulders.

“Sleep as long as you want.” He said kindly and you nodded before heading back to your bedroom, locking the door just in case. You bundled under the covers and cried yourself to sleep.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t get any sleep. He stayed up, checking the cabin’s doors and windows, making sure they were locked and covered. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew it would only be over his dead body that he would let Michael or anyone else hurt you again.

Little did either of you know, there was another pair of eyes watching you through the trees.


	5. Chapter 5

When you woke up it was to the smell of bacon and coffee, and for a moment you flashed back to memories of when you and Michael first moved in together, when he was all compliments and gifts and nice gestures. However, then the thunder cracked and you were shocked back to reality, back in your family cabin, on the run, with a complete stranger in your living room. As much as you wanted to lie there forever, under the covers, and just pretend none of this was happening, you knew that wasn’t an option. So you got up and wrapped the blanket around you before heading out to the kitchen. Dean was standing over the stove, with a few strips of bacon frying in a pan and another pan was full of scrambled eggs. He turned when you stepped on a creaky floorboard and his face lit up. You couldn’t remember the last time you walked into a room and someone actually seemed pleased to see you.

“Morning,” he said happily and then looked down at the eggs. “Hope you like your eggs scrambled, because I have no idea how to make them any other way.”

That made you smile and you leaned against the doorframe, surprised at how domestic and easy this felt. It was feeling you hadn’t realized you’d missed until it was taken from you.

“I can’t even remember the last time someone made me breakfast.” You said and Dean frowned, so you answered his unasked question. “Michael said cooking was a woman’s job. Hell a bowl of cereal was too much to ask.”

Though you could tell he wanted to say something, Dean stayed silent and just placed a plate heaped with scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, along with a steaming hot mug of coffee.

“It’s decaf.” He said, pointing to the coffee. “Can’t promise it’ll be any good though, I found it in a tin behind the coffee maker.”

You smiled, sitting down and picking up the mug. “That was my dad’s.” you said, bringing the coffee to your nose and taking a big whiff, the smell reminding you of home. “He would eat almost anything without complaining but one thing he wouldn’t settle on was his coffee. Always had to be the best.” You closed your eyes and took a long drink, sighing. When you opened them you noticed Dean leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He was staring at you with a small smile on his face. “What?” you asked, suddenly self conscious.

“This is the calmest you’ve been since we’ve been here.” He said quietly and you bit your lip, looking down at your coffee mug.

A small, sardonic laugh escaped you. “I feel like an escaped prisoner.”

Dean let out a huff of air. “I’ve been there.”

That surprised you and you raised your eyebrows.

“That sounds like a story I have _got_ to hear.” You said and Dean just laughed.

“It’s a long, messy story, sweet—Y/N.” he corrected himself before calling you ‘sweetheart’ which made you smile and gesture to the chair across from you, telling him to sit.

Dean grabbed a cup of coffee for himself—“Holy _shit_ this is good.”—and sat down across from you.

“Okay,” he started. “Hunting isn’t all that glamorous—“

“Yeah I kind of got that, considering I found you unconscious and beat up in the middle of the woods.” You teased and he just rolled his eyes.

"Shut your pie hole and listen up.” He told you, taking another sip of coffee.

Though he was essentially telling you to shut up, it didn’t feel like when Michael told you that. When Michael told you to stop talking it was harsh and antagonistic and commanding, but when Dean said it, he did it with a teasing tone, and you knew he was just ribbing you. Although you had a moment where you instinctively pulled back from him, adopting the meek demeanor you’d had with Michael, Dean’s smile reassured you that he wasn’t _truly_ telling you to shut up.

Dean started telling you about hunting, how gruesome and horrifying it was. He talked about the monsters he hunted, and even a few he had befriended over the years, which surprised you a bit. Apparently the world had almost ended more than once, and you never knew, because he and his brother had saved it. Once he mentioned Sam he really couldn’t stop talking about him. How he’d literally pulled him from a fire when they were kids, how Sam was always at odds with their father, how Sam had left them to go to law school. Although when Dean spoke of that you could tell that there was more pride than resentment that his little brother was smart enough to get into an Ivy League school. If anything, you could tell Dean was extremely proud of his little brother, and would quite literally do anything for him. Idly, you wondered what that would be like, to have someone be willing to die for you, but you kept those thoughts to yourself.

From there the conversation turned lighter, as Dean started to talk about pranks he and Sam would pull on each other, the funny stories they had together. He told you about the time Sam jumped off the roof wearing a Batman costume and broke his arm, or when he got chased by clowns and covered in glitter. He told you about his friend—Cas was his name, though you didn’t know who he was—and the night Dean tried to get him laid for the first time. Eventually you started sharing funny stories of your own. The time you and a few other neighbor kids somehow ended up in a snowball fight with the local deputies, when your dad burned the mac and cheese and made you promise not to tell your mom he’d tried to cook. Or when you were fifteen and took your dad’s car out for a joyride, and when he’d found out he just laughed and said he might as well teach you to do it without getting caught next time. Before long the two of you were in stitches, clutching your sides as you laughed.

“Oh, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.” Dean laughed, wiping under his eyes as you caught your breath.

“Me either,” you echoed and there was a moment of awkward silence where you both took in that reality. It brought the mood down a bit and as you reflected on what he’d just told you, you frowned.

“Do you think I overreacted?” you asked quietly, looking at a spot to the left of him. “About Michael? I mean, you’ve fought the literal Devil and survived and here I can’t even handle some asshole husband. You must think I’m pathetic.”

Instead of brushing you off, Dean sat back and fixed you with a strong gaze, waiting until your eyes met his.

“The only one that’s pathetic is your asshole husband.” He said confidently. “And you’re right, I’ve fought all kinds of monsters. And if you ask me, anyone who does what he’s done, is just as evil as any of the monsters I’ve killed. You deserve better.”

“Thanks, Dean.” You said and reached out to take his hand, which seemed to surprise him, though after a moment he squeezed yours back and smiled at you.

It looked like he was about to say something else but just then the lights all shut off and the two of you laughed.

"Hope you’ve got candles.” Dean said and you shook your head and got up.

“There’s a generator out in the shed, along with more firewood and stuff. We used to go snowshoeing and stuff up here all the time when I was a kid, and we got snowed in more than a few times.”

Dean stood up too. “I’ll go get it.”

“No, I got it.” You told him. “I know where the shed is.”

Dean started to argue but you just pointed a finger at him, trying to look stern.

“Sit your ass down.” You told him and he just held up his hands in surrender and plopped down on the couch.

“Aye, aye Captain.” He said and you rolled your eyes before grabbing a flashlight and slipping your jacket on.

The ground was muddy and slick as you trekked down to the shed. The rain hadn’t let up, and occasionally the space around you lit up with a lightning flash. It made you nervous but you stepped lightly and made it to the shed safely. The door was locked and you realized you didn’t know where the key was, but you knew a few tricks from when you and your dad used to get locked out. Putting the flashlight in your mouth, you located the two bolts holding the door in place on the opposite side from the lock, and wedged them out with your nails and the door popped right open. The shed was exactly as you remembered it, everything in it’s place, packed away perfectly—your mom was an organizing fiend and though your dad would grumble about it you knew it was one of the reasons he loved her. The generator was tucked in the back corner, in a waterproof box. It wasn’t too large, but would at least provide some power until the storm let up, and you were sure you could get it back to the cabin on your own. However, as you were kneeling down to open the box you heard what sounded like a movement in the opposite corner of the shed. It wasn’t a very large shed, but still large enough to fit a few people and plenty of storage, not to mention it was built very well. So you wondered if maybe an animal had gotten in to shelter from the storm or something, or if the weather and situation were just making you paranoid. Still, if it was an animal you wanted to make sure it wasn’t hurt, or ruining anything, so you closed the lid of the box and shined your flashlight over to the opposite end of the shed, but just as you turned to the last corner, someone knocked the light out of your hand and you cried out. Before you could scream, however, whoever it was had flipped you around and wrapped their arms around you, and there was the distinct feel of the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N/N stands for "your nick name" just fyi

You’d learned in school that when confronted with a tough, or dangerous situation, the human brain reacts in one of two ways; fight or flight. However, you’d also learned that there was a lesser known, third option. Freeze. Through years of abuse and torment you’d learned that freezing was your brain’s natural reaction. Fighting hardly ever worked, and usually only ended up with more pain on your end. And running away only delayed the abuse. So, you’d taken to freezing, waiting for it to end, or to see what would happen and you’d assess after. Michael had knocked the fight out of you a long time ago.

“Scream and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” The man holding you said, and his voice was low and gravelly, like he hadn’t had water in a while. He smelled like he’d been living rough for a long period of time and you could feel what you thought was a scraggly beard on the back of your neck. His nails felt long where he was gripping your arm and you assumed he was one of the homeless taking shelter in the abandoned houses scattered on the mountain. Maybe he got scared off when you pulled up earlier and relocated to the shed.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” You said breathlessly but he ignored you.

“Walk.” He pushed you forward and you stumbled. “Move!” he hissed and you flinched but obeyed.

The two of you made your way towards the cabin, with him grumbling and shoving you when you walked carefully to avoid tripping. As you got closer to the cabin, you wondered if the power outage truly was because of the storm, or this mysterious stranger. Just your luck, to escape one sadistic man, only to be threatened by another. Maybe Dean would be of some help, or maybe you would both be killed by this mountain man. 

"You scream and I'll kill you and your little boyfriend." he growled as you stepped on the porch and walked to the front door. 

He reached around you and opened the front door with his foot and you just now remembered that Dean’s gun was still locked in the safe in your room. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now here you were, with no protection against this psycho stranger. He pushed you through the threshold and you fell to your knees, scraping your palms on the hard wood. Dean turned around from where he was lighting the last of a few dozen candles, when he heard you fall and his face hardened when he saw the man with a gun pointed at your head.

“Don’t try anything, Winchester.” He growled. The familiarity of him using Dean’s name didn’t go unnoticed by either of you, but Dean was quicker to respond than you were.

“We met?” he spat, standing up slowly, keeping his hands in view so the man would see he wasn’t armed.

The man behind you laughed sadistically. “Figures a hunter wouldn’t remember. You killed my brother just a few days ago, or do all your kills blend together now?” He said harshly and realization flickered over Dean’s face.

“You’re a wolf.” Dean said simply, no question in his voice.

“A werewolf?” you demanded before you could stop yourself. “Are you kidding me?”

The man pulled you up by your hair and you cried out and Dean took a half step forward, looking panicked.

“Don’t hurt her.” Dean growled but it just made the werewolf laugh.

“Or what?” he taunted. “Don’t see any silver bullets on you, hotshot.”

Dean said nothing, knowing he was right and the werewolf shoved you forward harshly, but this time Dean moved quickly to catch you before you landed on your knees again. A heap of rope landed next to the two of you.

“Tie him up. And don’t try anything.” The wolf demanded of you, pointing the gun at your head. Dean nodded and pulled a chair over, sitting down while you tied his wrists loosely together behind the back.

“Tighter!” the man shouted, and you pulled the ropes tighter.

Part of you wondered why Dean didn’t immediately fight back, seeing as how he’d taken down a werewolf just a few days ago. But then you remembered that Dean was injured, plus you were there as well. He probably wanted to keep this as calm as possible, seeing as how the werewolf had a gun pointed at you.

“23-42-16…” you whispered to Dean, and though it took him a moment he nodded in understanding. If you couldn’t reach the safe, hopefully Dean could. Realistically, even if you could get to the safe and grab the gun, you’d never so much as played laser-tag, let alone shot a werewolf in the heart. The most you could do was slow him down, and even that scared the shit out of you.

“Okay, your turn girlie.” The werewolf said, pulling you away from Dean and shoving you roughly into a chair, tying your wrists tightly together behind your back.

“So, that other mutt was your bro, huh?” Dean said conversationally.

“ _Scott_.” The man corrected him harshly. “He was a good man.”

“I think the six people whose hearts he ripped out would beg to differ,” Dean said, shrugging, which earned him a hard punch to the jaw.

“Stop!” when you cried out he turned towards you, a grin on his grimy face.

“Oh sure, I’ll stop.” He said but followed up with another punch to Dean’s face and a blow to his stomach, knocking the wind out of Dean instantly. “When he’s dead.”

From there you watched helplessly while the werewolf beat Dean to a pulp, all while Dean spat blood and insults at him, which only made him angrier. The entire time you were screaming, begging him to stop hurting Dean, but it seemed that all that did was spur him on, like he enjoyed having an audience. After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped and moved to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Apparently torture made him thirsty.

“D-dean…?” you whispered and he looked up at you, one of his eyes swelling and blood dripping from his nose.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” How he managed to sound calm and comforting right now astounded you, and you didn’t even scold him for calling you sweetheart. “It’s gonna be okay. I sent out the Bat-Signal…”

Before you could ask him what he meant the werewolf returned, tossing his empty glass against the wall, where it shattered. He took a few steps towards you and knelt down in front of you, putting his hand on your thigh.

“And what’s your story, beautiful?” he asked, his long nails tracing along the fabric of your pants.

“She’s no one,” Dean grunted, and you had to admit that that hurt a bit. However, when you looked over at him, he mouthed “stall” at you and you realized he was struggling to get his binds undone now that the attention was off of him. And though having a werewolf staring at you terrified you to no end, you were tired of sitting back and letting men like him and like Michael walk all over you. And you were damned if you were letting Dean get hurt because you were too scared to help. If you could distract Clyde long enough for Dean to get free, maybe this wouldn’t end in a massacre.

“I’m Y/N.” you answered quickly, hoping to distract him. “What’s your name?” When he didn’t answer you put on your best puppy dog eyes. “C’mon, I’m a dead woman, I can’t know?”

He leaned forward slightly, his nails digging into the flesh of your thigh. “Clyde,” he whispered.

“Clyde.” You repeated and you thought if you could keep him calm, keep him talking, you may get out of this. “I’m sorry about your brother.” You weren’t, but placating him seemed like the best option as of right now.

That seemed to shock him but he just huffed. “Yeah right. Hunters don’t feel remorse.”

"I'm not a hunter," you told him honestly.

“Then what are you doing with this piece of shit?” Clyde demanded, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Dean, who was still attempting to get the ropes untied—you hoped he was making progress.

“Wrong place at the wrong time, I guess.” You paused. “You said your brother was a good man?”

Clyde seemed put off by your question, but also like he hadn’t talked to anyone in a while, and he clearly relished the opportunity to vent.

“As good we can be with what we are.” He said gruffly. “Ain’t his fault he got bit. And we gotta eat don’t we? We usually keep to the woods, grabbin’ stray hikers or town drunks. If Scotty hadn’t been so stupid…” he trailed off then looked back at you, an evil glint in his eyes. “Now I gotta clean up his mess. Sorry ‘bout this sweetheart, but I can’t exactly leave any witnesses.” Clyde grabbed your hair and tilted your head back, his teeth bared and you panicked.

“Wait!” You cried, desperate. “I’m pregnant!”

Clyde stopped and slowly moved to face you, however, he did not have the reaction you’d hoped for. He was smiling, almost manically, and then he licked his lips, tiling his head as he stared at you.

“Hm.” He said thoughtfully. “Are ‘ya now?” He started to circle you, and when he was behind you, brushed your hair off your neck and leaned down, and you cringed as you felt his hot breath on your neck. “So, Dean…what do you think would happen if I turned a woman while she’s pregnant? Should we find out?” you could feel him smile against your skin and you closed your eyes, trying not to cry out.

“Don’t touch her you fucking mutt!” Dean shouted, and you heard him struggling against his bonds. You, however, sat incredibly still, your eyes closed, hoping that that might save you from any further harm, though you were not hopeful—after all, it hadn’t worked in the past.

“Or maybe…” Clyde cooed. “I hold off on that part. After all…where’s the fun if I can’t torture Dean Winchester for a bit longer?”

“You son-of-a-bitch.” Dean growled. In that moment, he sounded scarier than Clyde, or even Michael, and you were thankful he was on your side.

Clyde laughed behind you. “Oh…does big, bad Dean Winchester have a crush?”

“Untie me and I’ll crush your skull.” Dean spat back but Clyde didn’t seem fazed.

“So, if you care about her, then this…” he dragged one of his nails—inhumanly sharp—down your arm, cutting straight through your shirt and deep into your flesh. “Will drive you insane.” You cried out in pain while Dean screamed at him to leave you alone. “What’s wrong, Dean? Don’t like seeing someone you care about being hurt? Welcome to the club!” Clyde shouted at Dean, before taking the rest of his nails and plunging them into your shoulder. When you screamed in agony he shushed you.

“Don’t worry, darling.” Clyde said, and the calm, placating tone of his voice reminded you of all the times Michael had spoken to you while he was beating you. “These will heal when I turn you…if you survive that is.”

“Get the fuck off of me.” You hissed, which earned you a slap that left you with a bloody lip. Clyde did to you what he’d done to Dean; punching, hitting and slicing until you were weak and bloody in the chair. Surprisingly, he left your stomach alone, which you counted as a small blessing in the midst of all this horrific shit.

Eventually Clyde got tired—or bored—of beating on you and went into the kitchen again, this time helping himself to whatever he wanted, including your Dad’s coffee. You spit blood out of your mouth and looked up at Dean weakly, tears mixing with the blood and stinging slightly as they rolled down your face.

“Stay with me, Y/N/N.” Dean said, though there was panic in his voice. “Hold on for me, okay? Sammy’s on his way.”

That confused you. Sam? But then you remembered what Dean had said about sending out the Bat-signal and you realized he must have found a way to contact Sam and to, hopefully, send him your location. You just hoped he came packed with silver bullets.

“D-Dean, there’s something wrong.” Though you couldn’t put your finger on it, something felt off. It wasn’t the fact that there was a fucking werewolf rooting through your kitchen, it was something _inside_ of you.

“The baby?” Dean demanded, and you could tell though he was panicked, he was attempting to keep calm for your sake.

All you could do was nod, shutting your eyes tightly against the sudden, intense pain in your abdomen. As you breathed through the pain you heard Clyde reenter the room and he knelt in front of you again.

“Tappin’ out darlin’?” he asked condescendingly and you opened your eyes and spat at him. Clyde just chuckled and sighed.

“Alright, then, have it your way.” He said and leaned forward, and the next thing you knew there was an agonizing pain in your neck as his teeth sank down into your flesh.

“NO!” Dean screamed and you heard the sound of a struggle and when you opened your eyes you saw Dean lunging towards Clyde, the now ripped ropes still tangled around his wrists.

Though Dean didn’t have a weapon of any kind or silver bullets, he was punching and kicking at Clyde until Clyde collapsed on the ground, unconscious. Dean wasted no time in rushing to you and untying your binds.

“Hey, hey Y/N can you hear me?” he pleaded with you though there was something akin to fire seeping through your veins starting at your neck and spreading all throughout your body. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed a number, all the while begging you to stay conscious.

“Sam!” He shouted into the phone. “Pick up your _fucking_ phone!” you barely heard him, as your brain felt like it was trying to leap out of your skull.

There was an overwhelming sense of anger that you could only describe as animalistic spreading through your entire being, and through the haze of pain you realized what must be happening. Clyde had bitten you, which could only mean one thing. You were turning into a werewolf.

With that thought in your head and the sound of Dean shouting at you to stay awake, you slipped into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Dean's point of view.
> 
> Sorry it's a bit shorter! More is coming I promise!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Dean watched in horror as Y/N passed out, still bleeding, tears still wet on her face and that fucking wolf bite glaring up at him from the side of her neck. He cursed and tried Sam’s phone one more time, but it went directly to voicemail. Dean was lucky he’d been able to send out a text before his phone died, and Sam had only responded with a simple “tracking”.

Dean knew that his gun was locked in the safe somewhere in the cabin but he wasn’t about to leave Y/N’s side. Even in unconsciousness she was moaning and shaking as the inevitable transformation spread through her bloodstream. He did, however grab Clyde’s gun and put it near him, just in case he decided to wake up and try anything. Carefully, Dean picked Y/N up and placed her on the couch, brushing the hair off of her forehead, which was burning up under his fingers. No sooner had he placed her down did the front door to the cabin burst open and Dean immediately had the gun pointed at the intruder.

“Dean?” His relief at seeing Sam was short lived as Y/N groaned and cried out.

"He bit her!” Dean told him, and Sam’s eyes went wide in panic before he sprang into action, hovering over Y/N and checking her pulse.

“She locked my gun in a safe, hang on—“ Dean barely got the words out before running to the main bedroom and opening the safe quickly, grabbing the gun. Thankfully there were still silver bullets loaded and he cocked it before sprinting back to the living room. Sam had a wet towel pressed against Y/N’s forehead.

“She’s burning up, man.” Sam said and tilted his head towards Clyde behind him. “He still alive?”

“Not for long,” Dean growled, pointing the gun at Clyde’s unconscious form but Sam knocked his arm down before Dean could pull the trigger.

“We need him alive, Dean!” Sam said and Dean almost decked him. “Mick’s cure!” he explained and Dean cursed. Thank fuck for those limey sons-of-bitches and their fucked-up sense of responsibility. “We’ve still got some of the solution in the trunk, I think. We just need some of his blood to finish off the cure.”

“Go!” Dean told him and Sam raced outside to the car while he  kept the gun trained on Clyde. It was less a minute and he was back, jamming a syringe in Clyde’s neck and drawing as much blood as he could before mixing it with the weird yellow stuff the Brits had concocted.

“Okay, here we go.” Sam knelt next to Y/N and positioned the needle at her neck but Dean grabbed his hand at the last second. “What, Dean?” Sam asked, shocked that Dean was stopping him. But Dean just stared at Y/N’s stomach.

"She’s pregnant, Sam.” He said quietly. “What if this kills the baby?”

“What makes you think it’ll survive the transformation?” Sam threw back and while Dean knew he was right, he still hesitated. “Dean, if we don’t do this now she’ll be a _werewolf_ , and we don’t even know how that would affect the baby! Can you really let that happen knowing you could stop it?”

Dean only hesitated for a moment more before Clyde let out a moan from behind them and turned as quick as lightning, pointing the gun in his face. The bastard saw what was happening and had the audacity to laugh.

“Can’t save ‘em both, huh?” he chuckled, and Dean stomped my boot in the center of his face. “Looks like I got to torture the Winchesters after all…”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean growled and shot a silver bullet straight in his heart, adding a few more for good measure.

“D-dean…” a soft voice called and Dean turned to see Y/N’s eyes flutter open and her hand reached out to him, though she was so weak she could barely lift it. He hurried and knelt next to her, taking the towel from Sam and dabbing the sweat off of her forehead. She shuddered and took a gasping breath.

“I’m c-cold,” she was shivering and Dean grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, covering her quickly. “It hurts…” the pain in her voice nearly broke him.

“I know, I know sweetheart.” Dean tried to calm her, but in truth he knew there was nothing they could do. They would both just have to wait it out.

Sam got rid of Clyde’s body, which was good because Dean wasn’t about to leave Y/N’s side. It took over an hour for her body to stop shaking and the muffled cries of pain to subside. It was almost worse than watching Claire go through the same thing, because Dean’s mind couldn’t stop going to the thought of the baby growing inside of her. When she finally stopped writhing and her eyes fluttered open, Dean could’ve cried he was so relieved.

“Hey, hey don’t move.” He cautioned, not knowing the extent of her injuries, or how the sudden change in transformation would affect her.

“Water…” she gasped, her voice scratchy. Dean was up instantly, getting her a large glass and helping her drink slowly so she didn’t make herself sick. When she finished she let out a labored breath and sighed. “What happened?”

“Clyde bit you,” Dean said, seeing no point in sugar coating it.

“It hurts.” She moaned and Dean nodded sadly, brushing hair off of her sweaty forehead.

“You’re gonna be okay, kiddo. The wolf is dead and Sam and I got the cure in your blood before the change could happen.”

“No, Dean.” She reached up and grabbed his shirt tightly, looking at him desperately. “Not that, the baby—“

Dean followed her gaze and saw blood soaking her pants. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before he had her in his arms and was running her outside. Somehow Sam was pulling up at right that moment and jumped out to open the back door so Dean could slide Y/N in gently and climb in behind her. Sam didn’t ask questions, just flipped the Impala around and drove well over the speed limit to the hospital. Dean just hoped that they weren’t too late.


	8. Chapter 8

The first time you gained consciousness it was only for a few seconds; just aware enough to recognize the rumbling of a car engine and Dean’s face staring down at you before the pain became too much and you blacked out again. When you woke up again it was to multiple people hovering over you, shouting at one another and at you. Bright lights nearly blinded you and the pain was back, only this time you were awake enough to cry out.

“Y/N?” a woman wearing scrubs called to you and though you were dizzy, you tried to focus on her. “Stay with me sweetheart.”

“She’s losing a lot of blood,” someone else said but you were too tired to turn and see who it was. “Do you know her blood type?”

“No, no!” another voice cried, and you recognized Dean’s voice through the haze.

“Dean—“ you tried to call out to him, to turn your head at least and reach out your hand but even that seemed to be too much for your body and your arm just dropped limply back at your side. As your head clouded over and your eyes closed all you were aware of was multiple voices shouting over one another and how incredibly cold and exhausted you were.

"Pulse is weakening, we need to stop this bleeding!”

“Sir I need you to leave now!”

“No, I’m not going anywhere!”

“Sir please!”

“Y/N!”

The last thing you heard before blacking out again was Dean’s voice calling out for you, however, the next time you woke up you were alone in a hospital bed. There was a cannula hooked under your nose, and when you moved to brush the hair out of your face you felt the tug of an IV in your hand. Though your entire body was sore, most of the pain seemed to be gone, which you attributed to the drugs they were certainly pumping through your bloodstream. Above all else you felt weak and…afraid. There were so many questions you had and a few of them could only be answered by Dean or Sam, who were nowhere in sight. Not that you would recognize Sam even if he walked in the room. You vaguely remembered Dean telling you back at the cabin that he and Sam had stopped the werewolf transformation and that Clyde was dead, but honestly it was all jumbled and you only remembered bits and pieces. If they had truly cured you then…you were in the hospital for another reason. Slowly, you allowed the reality to set in and to ask yourself the one question you were avoiding above all else.

_What happened to your baby?_

You wouldn’t allow yourself to look down at your stomach, to even move your hands to touch it. Because the truth was…you already knew. From the very moment you’d suspected you were pregnant there was this _feeling_ inside of you. It wasn’t something tangible, but you could sense the little life growing inside of you. Where that feeling had been before, there was now just…emptiness. Without anyone having to tell you, you knew. Your baby hadn’t survived.

Before that reality could truly set in you heard footsteps outside of your room and a worn-out looking nurse poked her head in, holding a clipboard under her arm. When she saw that you were awake she gave you a small, tired smile.

“Hey, Y/N.” She said kindly, her voice soft as she checked your chart. “My name is Emily. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you said honestly, your voice slightly hoarse. “Sore.”

“That’s normal for what you went through,” she said, checking your IV drip. “I’m just going to take a look at that neck wound,” she gently peeked underneath the bandages on your neck with cold hands. “Looks good.” She smiled at you kindly. “The doctor will be in soon okay? You just rest.”

You returned her small smile. “The men who brought me in?” you asked her. “Where are they?”

“They’re uh…they’re in the waiting room.” Emily told you, but something in her tone confused you.

“Can I talk to them?” you asked and Emily’s eyebrows creased.

“Not right now,” she said, her tone placating and careful. “They’re still being interviewed by the police.”

That confused you. “Police?” you asked and Emily nodded, then looked over her shoulder worriedly.

“I’ll go get the doctor okay?” she said and before you could call after her she left the room.

The police? Why would they be here? What had Sam and Dean told the hospital had happened to you? Maybe they said you were mugged, or had gotten lost hiking in the woods, caught in the storm and they’d stumbled upon you. Either way, the police being here was probably not a good thing.

"Mrs. Y/L/N?” Emily was back, accompanied by a woman in a white coat who was obviously your doctor. “I’m Dr. Maria Esparza. How are you feeling?”

“Sore, tired.” You repeated what you’d told Emily earlier and Dr. Esparza nodded knowingly.

“I won’t sugarcoat it Y/N,” she told you bluntly, but not unkindly. “You were in pretty bad shape when you came in. A cracked rib, sprained wrist, various lacerations and bruises, and a pretty nasty bite on your neck. You lost a lot of blood too which didn’t help things.” You nodded and she continued. “We set your ribs and stitched up the worst of the lacerations, and the wound on your neck. Luckily, the bleeding stopped before surgery was necessary, and I don’t see any signs of concussion.” That was good at least.

“And…” you knew that you shouldn’t ask, that having her confirm what you already knew would only break you further. But you needed to hear it. “And the baby?”

Dr. Esparza put a hand on your shoulder and looked at you empathetically. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Unfortunately, the baby didn’t survive the trauma.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears you’d been fighting off since waking. Dr. Esparza held your hand while you sobbed, but you pulled yourself together after a few moments, knowing that now was not the time to greive, not when there were still so many questions that needed to be answered. Emily and the doctor let you cry for a moment before Dr. Esparza spoke again.

“When you’re ready, there are is a police officer who would like to take your statement.”

“My statement?” you asked, confused. “About what?” 

Emily and Dr. Esparza shared a look before Emily spoke. “We’ll let him explain, okay?” she said before exiting the room, coming back with a uniformed police officer, who you were shocked to recognize.

“Ken?” you scarcely believed it. It had been years since you’d seen Ken Willis but you’d recognize that mop of red hair anywhere. He was a local, around your age, and whenever you and your parents would come up here, he would always come hang out with you to go on hikes, snowboard, etc.

“Hey, Y/N.” he said, smiling sadly at you. “Good to see you. Sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

"Officer Willis has a few questions for you, Y/N.” Dr. Esparza said and you nodded at her, and she and Emily left the room.

Ken pulled up a chair and sat next to your bed, a pad of paper in his hand.

“You became a cop?” you asked, trying not to let your history with law enforcement—namely your husband—taint your view of Ken. You knew he was a good guy, that he wasn’t like Michael. You couldn’t let Michael’s actions blind you to the good that other cops did.

Ken smiled bashfully and scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah sure did. Wasn’t sure how I made it past the academy but hey, here we are.”

“Good for you,” you told him, genuinely proud of him.

“Look, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through and I know you’ve gotta be exhausted but I do need to ask you a few questions, okay?” he said and you sighed, nodding. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

The truth was that you did, you remembered every horrible moment. But you weren’t sure what Dean had told them, and you knew that conflicting stories wouldn’t be good, so you just shrugged.

“Bits and pieces,” you told Ken. “It’s all kind of fuzzy.”

Ken nodded and wrote something down on his notepad. “Okay, that’s okay. Do you remember how you got to the hospital?”

You nodded. “Two men found me.” That was all the information you felt comfortable giving at this point, wanting to wait until you saw Dean and Sam and could verify what they had said. 

“Did you know the two men?” Ken asked and you hesitated, unsure what to say.

“Not well,” that was the truth at least.

Ken didn’t seem to believe you. “Y/N if there is something going on here, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

"What do you mean?” you played dumb, hoping he would drop it. The last thing you wanted was to get Sam and Dean in trouble, or bring more attention to yourself.

“Just the circumstances under which you were brought in…” Ken started, obviously conflicted between his job as a cop and the fact that he was your friend. “You’re pretty banged up, and you haven’t been up here in years…I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

That touched you. Though you and Ken hadn’t spent a lot of time together growing up, you still considered him a friend and you were thankful that he was being so kind to you.

“They helped me,” you told him honestly, hoping that he would let the question slide, seeing as how he knew you. “The nurse said they’re outside?”

Ken nodded. “They said they found you hiking,” Ken said. “Said they found you in a ravine, and the shorter one hiked down to get you out, that’s how he got hurt.”

Whoa, that was quick thinking on Sam and Dean’s part, that was for sure and would explain your injuries, and Dean’s.

“Is that what happened, Y/N?” Ken asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, it is.” You told him, hoping you sounded convincing. “It started to rain and I got lost, must’ve tripped and fallen into the ravine. I don’t remember much after that, just flashes y’know?”

Ken still didn’t seem one hundred percent convinced but thankfully he nodded and finished writing something down on his notepad before flipping it closed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” He told you, smiling and squeezing your hand lightly, careful of your IV. You returned the smile and squeeze and he stood up. “I’ll let you get some rest. If you’re up for it, the guys who found you have been asking to see you. Are you alright with that?” he asked again, giving you another chance to tell him something, to back out. However, you just nodded. “I’ll send ‘em in.” he told you, smiling one last time. “It really is good to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too, Ken.” You told him and a few moments after he left Dean and Sam walked through the door.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Dean cried, and you had to admit…he looked awful.

His arm was in a cast, and there were butterfly bandages covering his face and arms. He was walking funny, like he also had a few broken ribs, which made sense with the beating he’d taken from Clyde. However, he looked relieved to see you and the feeling was mutual.

"Are you okay?” you asked Dean and he rolled his eyes.

“Are you kidding? I’m not the one in a hospital bed right now!”

“Maybe you should be, I mean Clyde didn’t exactly go easy on you…” you said worriedly but Dean just shook his head.

“I’m okay, Y/N, really.” He told you, squeezed your hand and giving you a reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?” Dean asked.

“Been through worse,” you said and the boys looked at you sympathetically.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m Sam.” Sam said, and you shook the hand he held out, trying not to be put off by his size and obvious strength. “Glad you’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t be without you two,” you said gratefully. “Thank you for having our backs, Sam.”

“Of course!” Sam said. “I’m just glad I got there in time.”

“You and me both.” You agreed and Dean echoed your sentiment. 

"The doc won’t tell us anything because we aren’t family. Hell, even the cop had a hard time swallowing our story.” Dean said and you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“Can you blame him, Dean?” Sam shot back.

“He’s a friend, sort of.” You told them. “Knew him growing up, but you’re right I don’t think he believes us one hundred percent…let’s just hope he doesn’t dig too deep.”

"Y/N…” Dean said quietly, and you knew what his next question was going to be before he even asked it. “Did…are you still…?”

You took a deep breath and shook your head slowly, tears filling your eyes again. Dean let out a long breath before half running out of the room, and to be honest you couldn’t blame him, as all you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and hide away, partly because you didn’t want them to see you upset, and partly because you hoped to hide from the truth for a bit longer. Sam watched Dean go and then turned back to you, reaching out and taking your hand.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He said quietly and though he’d only just met you, you knew his sorrow and condolences were real. “Dean told me about your…situation.” He said quietly and you nodded through your tears. “I promise we aren’t going to let him hurt you again, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you stay safe.”

“Thank you, Sam.” You sniffled and Sam patted your hand lightly.

Emily walked in again, and handed you a cup of ice chips.

“Officer Willis wanted me to tell you that your husband will be here in a few hours, Y/N.” she said and your heart dropped.

“M-my husband?” it came out as barely a whisper, fear gripping your entire body.

“We still had your records on file from when your family used to stay up here,” she explained. “When we looked you up in the system he came up as your emergency contact,” Emily explained. “Officer Willis saw he was a fellow officer and called him for you. He just called to let us know he’s on his way, and should be here in a bit.” She spoke happily, and you knew she had no idea of knowing what fresh hell was heading your way, but you did. You knew. And it made being bitten by a werewolf look downright pleasant.

Michael was coming…and you knew there was no way in Hell he would let you go again.

What were you going to do now?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, but you guys have been waiting so patiently I wanted to get something posted!
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Fear gripped your entire body and you had the odd sense that you were somehow suspended in time, like everything was happening around you but you were quickly becoming numb to it, like watching a slow-motion movie. You knew this was your body shutting down, refusing to accept the news that you’d just heard. However, before you could totally dissociate, Sam’s voice snapped you out of it.

“Dean!” He shouted and Dean raced back in the room, glaring as Sam explained what was happening.

“Hey!” Dean shouted at a passing nurse who stopped abruptly, looking confused and a bit frightened. “She’s feeling better, when can she be discharged?”

“Hang on, let me get her doctor,” the nurse said, shuffling around Dean, who looked on the verge of a panic attack himself.

“C’mon we’re getting you out of here,” he said, sliding off his coat and draping it around your shoulders before locating your shoes in the corner of the room.

Sam spoke up however, ceasing Dean’s motions. “Dean we can’t just break her out of the hospital!”

“Why the hell not?” Dean demanded. “I’m not letting that asshole near her! Hell, if he even tries I’ll put a bullet in him, just watch me.”

“Keep your voice down!” Sam urged, shutting the door before turning around, much calmer than the two of you. “Look, if we take her now, without her being discharged, they’ll assume we kidnapped her.”

“I’m pretty sure they already assume that.” You told them and Dean nodded, huffing in frustration.

“Maybe we can head him off?” Sam suggested. “Confront him before he can do anything?”

“And you think her abusive jackass of a husband is just going to show up and what, let her go with us? Somehow I don’t that reunion going very well.” Dean spat, rolling his eyes.

"He might be less inclined to try something if we’re in a public hospital,” Sam pointed out and Dean countered, but you barely heard them. All you could think was that Michael was coming, and this time you knew he wouldn’t let you go easy. Only when you felt a sharp pain in your arm did you snap out of it, looking down to see Sam gingerly removing your IV. Apparently, they’d decided leaving now was a better option than waiting around for Michael to show up.

“C’mon, Y/N we’ve gotta go.” Dean said, helping you slip on your shoes and slide off the bed.

There were still drugs in your system, and you could feel the dull throb that came with broken bones, not to mention the wooziness from blood loss and exhaustion. However, you knew none of those things would matter if Michael got a hold of you again. He’d make the beatings you’d had look like papercuts. As the three of you made your way down the hospital hall you tried to talk yourself down, telling yourself that Sam and Dean wouldn’t let Michael get to you, and that as long as they were there you had a good chance of getting out of this. You pulled the hood of Dean’s jacket over your head and gripped his arm tightly as you all booked it for the exit, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks.

“Where you folks headed?” Ken asked suspiciously.

“Taking Y/N home,” Dean answered, too abruptly and on edge to sound normal.

“That so?” out of the corner of your eye you saw Ken look down the hall and back at Dean. “Y’know her husband just called, says he’s not far out. Maybe we should wait til he gets here.”

“We’re meeting up with him,” Sam answered smoothly, calmer than Dean was.

Ken raised his eyebrows and looked at you, barely able to stand, with Dean’s arm wrapped tightly around you. The pounding in your head was unbearable and your ribs were screaming in pain now that the drugs were leaving your system. Clearly Ken knew something was going on and you saw him touch the gun at his hip.

“I don’t think I can let you leave with her.” Ken said calmly, but you heard the authority in his voice. “Now let’s get Y/N back to her room and then we can all talk this out.” He reached out to take your arm but Dean stepped in front of you.

“Look buddy I got no beef with you, but if you don’t get out of our way this is gonna get ugly real fast.” Dean growled.

“Dean…” Sam warned but the damage was done.

“Your involvement in all of this is very odd, Dean.” Ken said. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“Guys…” you moaned, your head swimming and your legs feeling like they were going to give out at any second. The men didn’t quite hear you though.

“Are you arresting me, _Officer_?” Dean asked harshly and Ken tensed his jaw.

“Not at the moment…” Ken answered.

“Good. Then if you’ll excuse us—“

Dean made to push past Ken but when he did Ken grabbed his arm, prompting Dean to lash out and give Ken a solid sock in the jaw. As Dean released you, your legs gave out and you collapsed on the ground, hearing shouting and watching as Ken handcuffed Dean’s hands behind his back. Sam knelt next to you but backed off when Ken called for security and Dr. Esparza and a nurse ran to help you up. The pounding in your head was making it difficult to focus on anything and the after effects of the morphine and pain weren’t helping. As Dr. Esparza led you back to your room, you tried to stay as alert as possible, crying out for Dean and Sam weakly, though you were sure after what just happened they wouldn’t let them anywhere near you, and that thought sent you into another panic attack. As the nurse set you back in your bed she reached to put your IV back in and you jerked away from her.

“It’s okay, honey.” She told you, honestly believing that she was helping.

“No, no…” you moaned, jerking away from her again. The idea that you’d be stuck in this hospital when Michael showed up gave you enough strength to sit up and attempt to get out of the bed and she pushed lightly on your shoulders, calling for help. Another nurse came in and one of them wrapped her arm around your shoulders while the other expertly inserted your IV again. It only took a few seconds before the effects of the drugs entering your system made you weak again and you slowly collapsed back against the pillows, tears streaming down your face.

Waking up exhausted and disoriented was getting seriously frustrating. This time, however the haze had lessened a bit and you could focus more as you came to. However, that meant you were hyper-aware of the gruff voice coming from the hall.

 _Michael_.

In a moment of panic you tried to get up but you quickly learned that you were restrained. There were thick, padded handcuffs around your wrists that kept you strapped to the bed, presumably to stop you from ripping out your IV again, but all they were really doing was keeping you captive and unable to fight off the monster that was coming your way.

“Well, hi there.” Dr. Esparza entered the room, looking over your chart. “How are you feeling?”

“Why am I restrained?” you demanded, letting the anger—and fear—come through loud and clear. Dr. Esparza didn’t look phased however.

“We thought it would be best under the circumstances,” she said bluntly. “We can’t have you ripping out your IV again.”

“When can I be discharged?” you asked, your eyes flicking back to the door every few seconds, waiting for Michael to come in.

Dr. Esparza sighed. “We want to keep you overnight for observation, but providing that everything looks good you could be out of here as soon as tomorrow morning.”

No, that wasn’t good enough, you needed to be out of here _now_. Before Michael had a chance to get his hands on you—literally.

You shook your head rapidly, tears welling up and spilling over almost instantly. “No, no I can’t stay here. I need—I need to leave.” You were panicking, wrestling with the restraints and Dr. Esparza came forward, turning a dial on your meds just slightly.

“Y/N I promise you’re safe here, but we need you to cooperate with us, okay? Let us do our jobs.”

“Where are Sam and Dean?” it was probably the wrong question but you didn’t care, you needed to know where they were, if they could help you at all, or if they needed your help—though you weren’t sure how much help you could be at this point.

Dr. Esparza patted your hand gently. “You don’t have to worry about them, okay? Officer Willis took care of it. And there’s someone here who’s been very worried about you.”

“Hey, Y/N.” Michael said, walking around the corner, hands in his pockets, looking and speaking too casually for how terrified you felt. “Glad you’re okay.”

“He’s been awful worried about you,” Dr. Esparza said, smiling and placing a hand on Michael’s arm good-naturedly. “You’ve sure got a devoted husband, here.” She said kindly and Michael just grinned and brushed her comment off.

“I’m just relieved she’s okay.” He said, before putting his own hand on her shoulder. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am, Dr. Esparza, truly. You quite literally saved my whole world.” He said passionately, ever the charmer, and you saw the doctor melt under his words and that white smile.

You kept your mouth shut, too terrified to speak and also having no idea what you’d say if you did. Dr. Esparza said something about giving you two some space and she left the room, taking any semblance of safety with her. Michael watched her go, thanking her profusely before shutting the door behind her. As he turned back towards you, your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest and your hands balled into tight fists. Michael said nothing, just walked towards you slowly, pulling up a chair next to your bed and leaning back, propping his foot up on his knee. All pretenses of adoration or relief were wiped from his face and he glared at you angrily, folding his arms over his chest.

“So, _honey_.” He growled, terrifying calm. “Let’s talk.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is SHORT!! But I know you guys have been waiting patiently so I wanted to get something out while I work through my writer's block! It is also told from Dean's POV.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Again, sorry for the mini-chapter, there is more coming I promise!

“Hey, let me go!” Dean shouted, struggling against the deputy, even as the handcuffs cut into his wrists painfully. “We didn’t do anything!”

They didn’t listen to him however, and threw he and Sam into one of the cells—grimy and damp. Dean hit the bars when they un-cuffed him and started pacing.

“Dean, you’ve gotta calm down man!” Sam urged him and Dean had to refrain from punching him.

“I’ll calm down when that son-of-a-bitch is in the ground where he belongs!”

“Dean!” Sam scolded, even though the deputy was out of earshot. “The deputy is her friend right? So maybe he’ll listen to us—“

Dean scoffed, checking the cell door for loose bolts. “After I punched him the jaw? Fat chance.”

Sam just sighed and shook his head. “Look the hospital said they wanted to keep her at least one more night for observation, right?” Dean nodded distractedly. “So, we have at least until tomorrow morning.”

“Unless he does something before then, or convinces them to release her early—“ Dean argued but Sam cut him off.

“For now, let’s assume she’s discharged tomorrow, and focus on getting out of here.” It was annoying how reasonable Sam was being, and how calm he was while Dean was almost physically vibrating with frustration and anger.

Just then the deputy walked around the corner, and it was a different man than Y/N’s friend—Ken?

“Bad news, boys.” He said, though he sounded like it brought him no pain to deliver it. “System is down ‘cause of the storm. Can’t process you ‘til it’s back up.”

“When will that be?” Sam asked and the deputy shrugged.

“With this crap system we got out here, there’s no tellin’. Could be a couple of hours, could be tomorrow. Guess you’re in for the long haul, fellas.”

“This is bullshit!” Dean yelled, pounding his fist against the bars and making the deputy recoil. “I want my damn phone call!”

The deputy nodded, clearly terrified and hurried back towards the main office where they knew he was probably getting his superior to deal with the insane kidnappers in the back.

“Who are you even going to call, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean paused, running through a list of names in his head. It was sad how many of the people who came to mind first were either dead or missing at this point and he tried now to dwell on that as he settled on a name. The deputy returned with a cell phone in his hand, holding it out for Dean to type in a number and put it on speaker. Dean just prayed that the call went through and released a relieved sigh when they answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Dean. I need a favor.”


	11. Chapter 11

Michael stared at you, his arms crossed over his broad chest and a fire in his eyes you’d only seen a handful of times—none of which had ended particularly well for you. Your heart rate monitor sped up and you saw Michael grin when he realized that he was making you nervous. Sick bastard was actually getting enjoyment out of seeing you terrified, not that that was anything new. He’d spent years getting off on watching you cower in fear while he hurt you. Realistically you knew you could press the call-button, tell the nurse what was happening, and get the hell out of here. But you also knew that Michael had a hold on you still, that he basically owned you; he had for a while. The pure terror that gripped your entire body wasn’t something that you took lightly, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to speak to him for fear of saying the wrong thing and causing him to lash out. Blowing the whole situation out of the water was nothing but a pipe dream. Maybe if Sam and Dean were here you’d feel braver, but seeing Michael again had completely shattered the strength you’d gathered in the last few days, and you were back to the quiet, obedient wife that was scared of getting hit or worse.

After what seemed a lifetime, Michael finally broke the silence.

“Enjoy your little vacation?” he commented, far too nonchalant for the tense situation. You knew better than to answer. “Doc said they think you were kidnapped by two psychos.” Though you were determinedly staring at your hands clenched on the blanket, you felt the heat of his gaze burning holes in your skull. “But we both know better, don’t we, Y/N?” he didn’t wait for you to answer. “I always knew you were steppin’ out on me but with two guys? And _brothers_ no less?” he let out a low whistle. “Now you know I can’t stand for that, don’t you?”

You’d heard him say things like that before, when you’d gotten home late, or burned dinner, or hell even when you’re alarm woke him up earlier then he wanted. It was a sign that you were in for a rough night, and though you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you outright in a place so public as a hospital, you also knew that the longer he went without punishing you, the more time he had to plan what he would do. And that was almost more terrifying; the build-up, the waiting, knowing what was to come. As you sat there in silence, Michael leaned forward and took your hand lightly, and the fact that you were still restrained meant you couldn’t pull away like you desperately wanted to. He held your wrist firmly, running his fingers along your pulse-point, and you closed your eyes in fear.

“Y’know I gotta say, I underestimated you, Y/N. I mean not only did you run out on me, but taking my child with you? That’s a bold move. Royally stupid, but bold.”

That shocked you into opening your eyes and you saw him staring at you with a devilish smirk on his face and he let out a small laugh.

“Didn’t think I knew about that huh? Dr. Esparza let me know almost as soon as I got here, seemed to think I would want to know that _my_ child hadn’t survived.”

The possessiveness of which he spoke of your child didn’t evade you and if anything, it made you angry, not scared like it should have. How dare he say that that child was in any way his to claim. Yes, he may have biologically had a part in it, but that child was not, and never would be anything but yours, and yours alone. He had no right to take a claim to something he forced inside of you, and you would be damned if he continued to talk about that child like a possession.

“It wasn’t yours…” You hissed and he perked up, clearly pleased that you were engaging, because he knew that whatever you said would either placate him or give him another reason to hurt you.

“What was that, darling?” he whispered, leaning in and gripping your wrist tighter.

“That child was _not_ yours.” You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke back to him like this, and if you had, you most likely ended up bloody and sobbing on the floor.

Michael leaned forward, speaking quietly in your ear. “Did you forget how that child was made?” his breath tickled your ear and you recoiled at the soft aggression in his voice. “That child was mine, just like you are. Guess I’ll have to remind you of that, won’t I?” his lips touched your throat softly and you let out a whimper but he leaned back as Dr. Esparza and Nurse Emily came back in.

“Good news, Y/N!” she said, flipping through your chart while Emily checked the machinery you were hooked up to. “All your vitals look good and now that your husband is here,” she smiled and put a hand on his shoulder and he squeezed your hand—you tried not to flinch. “I feel comfortable sending you home to recover.”

“H-how soon?” you asked shakily and you saw Emily’s eyes dart towards Michael and back to you.

"Probably tomorrow afternoon.” Dr. Esparza answered. “I know Officer Willis wanted to speak to you again before you go home, so he should be in sometime tomorrow. Mr. Y/L/N we have some cots we offer up to spouses and family members for overnights if you’d like to stay with your wife.”

“No!” you cried before you could stop yourself and though Michael’s face remained neutral you could see the subtle shift in his eyes that terrified you. “I…I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” Though you tried to cover your outburst, Emily’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not an inconvenience to take care of my best girl,” Michael said, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I’ve always taken good care of you, haven’t I?” he whispered and you nodded, agreeing with him in the hopes he wouldn’t do anything.

“Maybe Y/N’s right,” Emily spoke up. “Mr. Y/L/N has driven a long way, and I’m sure Marge at the Rose-Inn could put him up for a night.” She smiled at Michael sweetly, but you saw the tension in her jaw. “That would be much more comfortable than a rickety hospital cot.”

“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart.” Michael winked at Emily, and seemed miffed when she didn’t immediately swoon at his flattery. “As long as I know Y/N is safe. You said the two that took her were arrested?”

Dr. Esparza nodded. “I can give you Officer Willis’ number if you’d like to contact him. I understand that you’re law enforcement as well?”

Michael’s chest practically puffed up as he answered. “Yes, ma’am. That’s actually how Y/N and I met. Saving the damsel in distress from day one isn’t that right, honey?” he leaned in again to kiss your cheek and you forced yourself to smile and lean in to his touch, even though you wanted to vomit and run screaming in the opposite direction. As Michael went into the “heroic” tale of rescuing you from the clutches of orphanhood, Emily was watching you oddly. In one last hope, you tried to convey your panic to her through eye contact alone.

“Excuse me but I think we should be letting Y/N get some rest, wouldn’t you agree Dr. Esparza?” Emily interrupted.

Dr. Esparza seemed to have to pull herself away from Michael’s story and you saw the affect he had on her just as he had with everyone else. Michael always knew how to charm people, especially women—you’d found more than a few of his ‘souvenirs’ from those women over the years; panties, bras or lipstick marks on his shirts. God forbid you so much as talk to another man without Michael present, but Michael could step out as much as he pleased.

Emily repeated her question and Dr. Esparza nodded. “Of course. Emily why don’t you help Mr. Y/L/N—“

“Please, Michael.” Michael said, smiling at the doctor, who blushed.

“Please help _Michael_ ,” she corrected. “get in contact with Marge at the Rose-Inn and I’ll get Y/N here something to help her sleep.”

“Of course. If you’ll come with me Mr. Y/L/N…” Emily made it a point to use his surname, which you could tell made Michael uneasy, but he just turned towards you and leaned in to kiss you on the lips and when his hand tightened threateningly in your hair you forced yourself to kiss back just slightly, but apparently it was enough to appease him because he released you after a moment.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” Despite his gentle tone you knew his word were a threat and a warning.

As Michael followed Emily out of the room Dr. Esparza told you she’d be back in a little bit and left shortly after them. In the quiet that followed you take a deep breath, despite feeling like there was a car sitting on your chest. Just when you thought you’d gotten out for good, that you were finally safe, shit hits the fan and you’d right back where you were. Not to mention that the only people who believed you and knew what was actually going on were currently in jail or worse. Michael had everyone else fooled, maybe not Emily but you weren’t convinced she would be on your side. That was one of the most frustrating things about this all, about Michael; that he was able to charm his way out of everything, convince people—hell even you—that he was a decent guy, that he was kind and devoted and a local hero. There were nights when you would come home to expensive wine and roses and he’d treat you kindly and kiss you and tell you that he loved you. Those nights you would go to sleep thinking maybe things would change, maybe he was just stressed at work or that he wasn’t feeling well. You promised to be a better wife, to communicate more, to change and not make him so angry and things would be alright again. But then he’d throw you against a wall or choke you while you were sobbing underneath him, and you’d remember. And for years you’d stayed, too scared and too confused to leave him. After all, he wasn’t _really_ a bad person at heart right? He just had a temper, and it was always your fault anyway. At least that’s what you’d told yourself. Besides, when the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally, take care of you no matter what, and do whatever it took to protect you…did the exact opposite, who else were you supposed to trust? Where could you turn when he’d made it very clear no one would believe you?

In truth, you’d wanted to leave for a long time, but you always made excuses for yourself, not to mention you were terrified. But finding out you were pregnant had been the last straw, so you’d run, if only to protect the innocent child inside of you. Now that you’d lost that too, part of you wanted to give up and hope that maybe he’d kill you this time and finish the job. But another part of you, the part that Dean had seemed to see right away, the part of you that you’d thought died a long time ago, had seemed to resurface. This was the part of you that Michael had tried to beat out of you. Your fight. Hell, in the past few days you’d almost gotten turned into a fucking _werewolf_ , and if you could survive that you could do anything. You had to fight for yourself now, and you would be damned if you were going to let Michael win again.

Dr. Esparza came back and gave you something to help you sleep and just as the drugs started to take effect, Emily came back in, leaning over you and whispering in your ear, and you only heard a bit before you drifted off again.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said quietly. “You’re going to be okay.”

It was still raining when you woke up, but that was no surprise. What did surprise you however, was a woman with long blonde hair, that you didn’t recognize sitting in your hospital room. She was scrolling through something on her phone but looked up when you sat up.

“Oh, hiya!” she said happily in a sing-song voice that was usually reserved for elementary music teachers and 50’s diner waitresses. “Didn’t know you were awake, though can’t say I blame ya! After what you’ve been through I wouldn’t blame you for sleepin’ for a week. I’ve always been an early riser myself but hey that’s when the coffee tastes the best, don’t it?”

She spoke a mile a minute, hardly stopping to breathe as far as you could tell, and you just sat there in shock as she spoke. In fact, you were so enraptured by this perky, random woman that you didn’t notice another person enter the room.

“Jesus, Donna give the poor girl a chance to breathe,” the other woman said, entering the room holding a drink carrier with three cups of what you assumed was coffee. She had short hair and you could tell she was much more subdued than the blonde woman, though as she approached you and smiled at you, you got a very kind feeling from her as well. “Hi Y/N, I’m Jody, this is Donna. Sam and Dean sent us. We’re gonna help you get away from that bastard husband of yours.”


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys! Sorry this isn't an update! 

This fic has been giving me trouble recently and I've been hit with a bout of writers block. I'm hoping to work through it soon! 

In the meantime I'd love to hear from you guys! Where do you want the story to go/see the story going? I love feedback! 

I also take requests if you're wanting something in the meantime! Who knows, maybe it'll help me get over my writer's block! 

Go to amorluzymelodia.tumblr.com/ask to submit requests or give feedback on this (or any other) fic!

Love you guys, thank you for reading! 

Abby


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